"Why?" asked Torry, to whom he spoke in a low tone.
"I want to tell him about that oil boat," returned Morgan, nodding his head.
In a few moments they dropped the sail and fended off from the chaser's side, just as Captain Bridger reached the spot too.
"You want these four boys, Skipper?" demanded the old fisherman.
"That's what I do," said Ensign MacMasters. Then to the chums: "Come aboard, boys; I've news for you."
"They been using my catboat," said Captain Bridger. "All right, Phil Morgan. You can go aboard. I'll take charge of the Sue. Got some right nice lookin' bass, ain't you?"
"But you won't take charge of them!" Torry exclaimed. "I caught that big fellow, and I donate it to the officer's mess of the S. P. Eight-eighty-eight, right now!"
The fisherman looked somewhat disappointed, for he was eager to make a penny. Whistler, however, gave him some of the smaller fish. The remainder were tossed to a grinning sailor upon the deck of the chaser.
"Come right aboard, boys," Ensign MacMasters repeated. "I am glad to see you looking so chipper."
He shook hands with them, in rotation, as they came over the side. But the chums did not forget to salute the officer. They lined up before him in a respectful attitude as Captain Bridger got aboard the catboat and shoved her away from the chaser's side.